Discovered Attack
by trufflemores
Summary: 2.11. Eobard warns Barry that he won't live long and Barry has a recurring nightmare about it.


After the Reverse Flash vanishes, a different speedster enters Barry's life.

Sending Eobard Thawne back haunts him, betraying the memory of a friend to save another, but he isn't expecting the phantom that greets him that night. It does not have a name and Barry can't make out Its face. It lopes towards him in the darkness, patient, quiet, covered in a black suit from head-to-toe. Its eyes are an electrifying white; its movements are alarmingly decisive as it crosses the void separating them. Even though Barry knows nothing about It, he's afraid, backing up one half-step at a time. His movements are inescapably slow; he knows that he won't be fast enough to outrun It. Whatever It is.

He feels weak in Its presence, humbled. Knees buckle, bringing him down to an invisible floor, and he tries to push himself upright again to no avail. Like a lightbulb blowing out, he feels a spectacular pain in his chest as the electricity dies. His breath comes heavier now.

Fear swallows anguish as he struggles to stay present. The lightning is _always there_. Without it he feels cold, _powerless_.

The Black Flash kneels in front of him. Barry stares into Its white eyes.

It breathes a single, insidious word: _Soon_.

Then It's gone.

. o .

When Barry walks into the cortex, Caitlin notes, "You look tired."

Barry doesn't reply, Flashing into his suit. It's been a week and he hasn't slept for more than fifteen minutes at a time, aware of that other presence lurking in the shadows whenever he closes his eyes. It's easy to mistake nightmare for reality: it _feels_ real. But it isn't, and he's old enough and rational enough to talk himself down.

Being back in the suit helps; it's grounding. It's a reminder that he is still strong, making him feel warm, safe. Some of the tension eases from his chest as he turns towards them and asks, "Cisco, what've you got for me?"

"Barry, maybe you should—"

"What've you got?" Barry repeats, a little more steel in his tone.

Cisco sighs. "Robbery on thirteenth and Albany."

Before either of them can speak, Barry vanishes. It's a cut-and-dry case: in seconds he has both would-be robbers cuffed, depositing them at the feet of a police officer. He feels relief and anxiety in equal measures, job well done, and then that same insidious presence bears down on him from the corner of his consciousness, an after-image with teeth. Shaking his head, he stumbles over the curb, narrowly avoiding a taxi. It veers sharply to avoid him, driver honking the horn reflexively as it screeches to a halt.

"Sorry," he shouts at the open window, voice ragged. He's strong and sharp and smart but not invincible; the reminder of his own mortality shakes him. Walking away from the scene before anyone can really get a close look at the intoxicated hero – stupid with fatigue, blinded with adrenaline – he takes off.

. o .

He's still stumbling when he walks back into Star Labs.

"What happened out there?" Harrison demands.

"It's fine," Barry says. His voice sinks into that gruff, metallic timbre he used to use on Iris.

"You being in anything less than top physical form is not fine, not while Zoom is still at large."

"Relax," Cisco advises, clasping Barry on the shoulder and yelping when it audibly cracks with a shock, snatching his hand back.

It should snap Barry out of his daze, but he doesn't even acknowledge it. Fear tightens his throat, vises his chest, and he can't move, struggling to stay on his feet.

Caitlin rushes forward to check on Cisco. Barry is aware of all three of them but in a vague, not-quite-real way, like he's still in a dream. Certainly the way Harrison advances on him reminds him of that figure: quiet, insidious. When he reaches out, expression somewhere between wonderment and severity, Barry steps back, closing his hands in towards his chest.

"I'm fine," he says, voice metallic. Shivering. "Really, I'm fine."

There's a tension in the room like a low-lying thundercloud and Barry needs to put it out before he hurts someone else, but he can't, struggling to keep himself together. It's hard to keep drawing in breath after breath when each one feels like his last.

Then Jay comes up behind him and clasps his elbow. Barry thinks, _Don't_ , but it's like a fire blanket, dousing enough of the shock that it doesn't touch him. The unreal sensation intensifies: taking away even that jarring connection removes him further from himself.

Jay steers him out of the room, pausing to say something Barry doesn't hear to Caitlin. Then he takes him down the hallways, Barry's ears ringing loudly, obliterating all other sound. Jay all but drags him into a cell and for a moment Barry really panics, thinking, _I'm not dangerous, I'm not going to hurt anyone, you can't lock me in here—_

Then Jay sits cross-legged on the floor across from him – Barry doesn't even think, just does the same, unthinkingly following his lead. Then he seals them inside. He's got a remote in his hand, and Barry feels the temperature fall, dropping to freezing in seconds.

When his breath shivers visibly in the air before him, Barry watches Jay set the remote aside and meet his gaze. In a calm, clear voice, Jay says, "Talk to me."

Barry shakes his head, feeling his breathing a little more distinctly. Crystallizing in front of him, it makes it easier to attach some sense of reality to it. Makes the heat and terror searing through him settle down. His hands are still shaking, but he can't feel the presence as strongly. Cold always slows him down.

"He said I was going to die soon," he rasps.

Jay doesn't even blink. "He's manipulating you."

Barry shakes his head, cradling it between his hands. "I thought so, but – there's _something_ there. And it's there to kill me."

Saying it aloud gives it a tangibility Barry fears, yet in the cold, confined space, he feels oddly safe. Even across from a powerless speedster, he can feel Jay's immovable authority. Jay has his back to the glass wall, utterly unmoved by the outside world. Unafraid.

"Speedsters have been calling it _The Black Flash_ for years," Jay says slowly. "Personally, I think _Reaper_ suffices." Barry stares at him, hungry, tired, terrified, needing to know more. Even if the confirmation that it _exists_ sends a chill down his spine. "What you're seeing is an echo of it. You wouldn't be alive right now if you'd met the real thing."

"So you've – seen it."

Jay nods. "So has Zoom."

"How do you—"

"It catches up to every speedster. Eventually."

Barry's silent for a while, long enough to really feel the numbness creeping into his fingers from the cold. It hurts, but Jay doesn't even flinch from the cold. Like it's therapeutic for him, too; a memory of a thing, if not the thing itself.

"How do you know this?"

Jay smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "While I was chasing Zoom, I was constantly on edge, knowing every day could be my last. That was when the visions started. I didn't know what they were – I thought it was Zoom at first. Scared the hell out of me." Pausing, he looks at his hands for a moment, like he doesn't know how to phrase his next statement. "It took me . . . a while, to realize that it wasn't actually going to kill me. It was just my own fears playing out in the Speed Force."

Barry shakes his head, lost; there's an ache behind his eyes.

"We're incredibly _connected_ to our emotions, Barry," Jay elaborates, leaning forward, like it's important, and Barry stares at him. He couldn't look away if he tried, enraptured. "Sometimes, a little too connected. The Speed Force is influenced by our state of mind. It can help us – as in your case when you time-traveled to save your friends – or hurt us. When we're afraid, when we're desperate, that's when we see visions of terrible things. We see the worst. We see what we expect is inevitable."

Chafing his hands together lightly, rubbing warmth into them slowly, Jay says, "Death _is_ inevitable, but Eobard Thawne wants it to torture you. It shouldn't. Because the future is mutable and Eobard Thawne knows _nothing_ of yours."

Barry is quiet, silently processing that. The cold has settled into his skin, and it's a little uncomfortable, but it helps him calm down. Pulls him away until there's a physical barrier between himself and the Speed Force, himself and It.

 _The Black Flash_.

For the first time in days, he feels _tired_. Not just exhausted from being on edge and unwilling to shut his eyes: he's tired of being ruled by his emotions. He lives in that room fifteen years ago; stares in the face of the same man who murdered his mother; watches people die, again and again, because he isn't fast enough to save them. He wants to separate himself from it all. Let go of the lightning, the heroics, the lifestyle. Just be _Barry Allen_ again.

But that isn't an option, and even though it's quiescent under his skin, the lightning is still home to him. He can't imagine going back to a world without it. Trying to be the person he was before nine months of his life disappeared.

A lot has changed. But some things haven't: Eobard Thawne still gets to rule his life, his choices, his emotions.

Barry swallows, trying to contain the swell of exhausted misery threatening to break over him. Looking at the ceiling, he says with raw finality: "I just – need him to stop existing."

"You are the reason Cisco is alive," Jay reminds him.

"If there had been _any_ other way to save Cisco," Barry rasps, not proud of himself, "I would have killed him." _Should have_.

Except there _hadn't_ been another way.

"You did what you had to," Jay says, "that's all anyone can ask for."

Barry nods, slowly, rubbing a hand over his eyes. It's starting to sink in: Jay doesn't project emotions, can't influence Barry's subconsciously, but he can do so in his posture, his tone, his unshakable calmness.

At last, when he can feel his heart rate slowing to its resting trot, Barry says quietly, "Thank you."

Jay tips his head in a slight nod, standing and holding out a hand for Barry. He clasps it, letting himself be pulled to his feet. "Any time." Then Jay clicks a button on the remote to open the door, a fresh surge of warm air intensifying the soporific effect being with someone who _understands_ has on him.

Back in the cortex, he opens his mouth to apologize, but Cisco just looks at Jay, who nods a little, before hugging Barry hard.

And Barry thinks, _They heard_ and wants to feel ashamed, but they deserve to know. He needs to stop hiding from them. He can't keep them safe by keeping them in the dark; as, clearly, jolting Cisco demonstrated.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

"Doing all right," Cisco tells him, releasing him.

He steps back, looking at Caitlin. She bites her lip a little, looking pensive. "You should take some time off," she says at last. "Central City can take care of itself."

Barry agrees with her, even if there's a strange reluctance in his chest to obey. The fever is gone, but he's still afraid to meet the Black Flash again – real or not real.

"Actually, I was thinking we could go for some brunch," Jay says, clasping his hands together. "My treat," he adds brightly.

"I think I'll pass," Harrison murmurs coolly, standing in a corner.

"I insist," Jay replies.

. . . Which is how they find themselves at a café on a corner making their way through a banquet of whip-creamed waffles and strawberries. The taste is spectacular, rich and filling, and Barry's forgotten how nice it is to sit down and enjoy a meal, especially since the booth they're in is small enough that he's shoulder-to-shoulder with Caitlin and Cisco, Jay and Harrison occupying the opposite side.

"How come no one told me we were going out for brunch?" Joe says, wounded, as he walks over to their table. Jay graciously makes room for him on his side, indicating that they hadn't thought he'd have the time – "I _always_ have time for brunch" – before getting him set up with a coffee. "What inspired this?" Joe asks, swiping a strawberry from an unclaimed plate.

"Had to see if the waffles here were as good as they are back home," Jay responds smoothly.

It's a perfect lie – his tone never wavers – and Barry appreciates the fact that the lightness of the meal isn't interrupted.

Once they've successfully cleaned out half the kitchen, they sit and talk, exchanging Earth-1 and Earth-2 stories that Barry can tune out, head on his palm, eyelids sliding shut briefly, taking it all in.

Surrounded by his friends, he only feels the warmth of their company, the solidarity of their presence. He's grateful he didn't go home – home is quiet, vulnerable, _alone_ – but here, he feels hearty. Strong. Capable.

Opening his eyes, he tilts his head with an "Mmhm," _I'm listening_ , when Cisco asks him to back him up.

When they get back to Star Labs, he barely even murmurs an explanation, collapsing face-first on a gurney and falling asleep.

The Black Flash is there, but It's not reaching for him or even looking at him. It's walking quietly away from him, an easy, unhurried pace, like a hitchhiker off to find a new adventure. Barry can tell It's somewhere between real and not real, more than a mirage, less than a person, but he feels calm, watching it go. Calmer still when he turns and finds Eddie grinning at him, clasping his shoulder.

" _You did the right thing_."

And he's starting to think maybe – just maybe – he can keep doing the right things, too.


End file.
